


taking steps in the right direction

by freckledshoulderblades



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Caleb Widogast Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Let Caduceus Sleep 2k18, M/M, caduceus is not a licensed therapist caleb!, coworkers to friends to eventual lovers, he's also not your punching bag!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-04
Updated: 2018-11-04
Packaged: 2019-08-18 17:03:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16521110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freckledshoulderblades/pseuds/freckledshoulderblades
Summary: AU where at the end of ep 39 Caleb manages to set the jungle on fire.orCaleb and Caduceus have an illuminating conversation.





	taking steps in the right direction

Their pursuers are gaining, the Yaun-ti brandishing spears and knives and Caleb can see the rest of the Nein and how Jester can barely keep one foot in front of the other, how Caduceus and Nott are flagging behind the bulk of the group, and as they escape the jungle and come to the beach, scrambling for the row boats -

Caleb turns and summons his fire, letting loose a series of bolts that pierce the jungle brush and catch ablaze despite the humid mediterranean air, flames licking their way up the base of the jungle wood with an arcane ferocity that Caleb’s seen before, lived before, dreamt before.

In the heat of the moment the blast of fire seemed the best option, the _only_ option, but as Caleb stumbles backwards towards the boats with the reflection of the growing inferno he can feel the familiar dread rising in his throat. His world goes dark for a moment with screams piercing the ether, the horrid stench of burning flesh and a gauntleted hand heavy on his shoulder, and Caleb can’t breathe for the ash coating his throat, can’t even _think_ , because those _are his parents_ -

A sharp slap brings him back to the present, Beau staring him down with a shaking hand. “Not right now,” she commands, and Caleb focuses on the pain in his cheek, the ache in his bones, and forces himself into his body as best he can. Nott has a hand clenched around his a moment later, smiling an exhausted, toothy grin, and he tamps down the unsettled feeling roiling low in his stomach as Fjord rows their boat back to the Squall-Eater.

 

\---

 

Late that night, as Caleb fails to still his mind long enough for sleep to take him, he feels a light tap on his shoulder.

“Mister Caleb?”

Caleb cracks open an eye, abandoning the thought of sleep altogether.

“ _Ja_ , Mister Clay.”

Caduceus huffs a quiet laugh. “I could go for a cup of tea. Care to join me?”

He thinks about his lack of sleep, how he desperately needs to rest in case his spells are needed the next day -

And then he turns over and locks eyes with Caduceus, sees his brows drawn tight and lips pursed into a thin line. He looks haunted, more than Caleb thinks anyone should have a right to look, and Caleb accepts his lack of sleep as easily as breathing.

“Of course, Caduceus.”

 

\---

 

“Is there something on your mind?” Caleb asks.

Caduceus finishes pouring their respective cups and takes a seat at the small kitchen table, eyes averted from the man. There’s a long, drawn out silence where Caleb nurses his cup slowly, watching the firbolg as Caduceus closes his eyes, too large hands cupped around his steaming tea.

“You don’t like me very much, Caleb.”

The words shock him, Caleb setting down the tea and opening his mouth to respond. Caduceus waves him off with a sad smile, propping his head on his hand.

“No, don’t worry about it too much. I’ve seen people when they grieve, and I think I found you all too soon after Molly’s passing.”

There’s a flare of unreasonable anger within Caleb as Caduceus says Molly’s name, like he doesn’t _deserve_ it, and Caleb has to fight to tamp down the sudden annoyance. Caduceus is unruffled, like always, calm and serene and nothing like the boisterous tiefling that once sat where he did.

Caleb objectively understands they’re not the same, they’re completely different and Molly isn’t coming back and he should _know_ that, but there’s a difference between the heart and the mind and when Caduceus sighs a little into his tea Caleb very nearly sees red.

“Don’t talk about him.” he hears himself say, and the rational - _reasonable_ \- part of his mind is ashamed at the way he snaps at the mild mannered firbolg, but he can feel his throat tightening and his chest heaving and he can _smell_ the flames licking at the base of the jungle from earlier that day. “You do not get to talk about Mollymauk, _Caduceus Clay_.” Caleb stands, chair screeching angrily against the wooden floor.

Caduceus watches him with a pinched look to his face. “Caleb, I-”

Caleb cuts him off with a slam of his hands on the table, spilling his tea across the surface. “I had to watch him _die_ -” he starts, rounding the table to jab a finger too close to Caduceus’ stony expression.

“Do you think,” and Caleb realizes his mistake a moment too late as Caduceus stands to his full height, head brushing the top of the Squall-Eater’s kitchen, “Do you really think, Caleb, that you’re the only one here that’s lost someone?” Caduceus is shaking with something Caleb can’t quite identify past the rage and fear fighting for dominance within him, can’t quite think with the way the firbolg crowds him against the wooden wall with a growl.

“I’ve buried mothers and fathers and too many siblings to count,” Caduceus continues, eyes piercing. “I’ve had to bury _children_ and _orphans_ and Caleb,” he breathes out, deflating a little, “I’ve also had to bury friends.”

A sadness overwhelms Caleb then, intensified with the way Caduceus shrinks into himself. He looks tired, a familiar sort of tired Caleb’s felt near every day since he watched his childhood home burn to the ground.

Since he burned his parents alive.

“I’m sorry.” he says simply, words catching in his throat. Caduceus steps away, slumping into his chair with a sad laugh.

“Caduceus,” Caleb sighs, “I’m...I’m not very good at this.”

Caduceus raises his brows. “No kidding.” he intones dryly.

Caleb straightens his chair, fills his teacup once more with the mostly cooled tea, and rejoins him at the table.

A moment of silence passes before Caduceus shudders out a low breath. “This is… this is hard, Caleb. Jester told me the world was bigger than my cemetery, but this?” He gestures around them at the ship, the ocean, the distant land. “People are _cruel_. People murder and steal and _hate_ , and I -”

“I just miss my cemetery.” he finishes quietly, gaze returning to his tea.

Caleb huffs out a broken chuckle. “Don’t you have ways of helping those with overwhelming grief, Caduceus? That was your entire life for a time, was it not?”

The way the firbolg freezes is intriguing, his face flushing a little more than Caleb would expect. “There are always ways to alleviate pain, Caleb.” he swallows.

It’s not difficult to put two and two together and Caleb’s mind races as he contemplates Caduceus’ unspoken offer. The issue doesn’t necessarily lie with his feelings towards the man - Caduceus is extraordinarily attractive in the curve of his back, in his pronounced jawline, in the tantalizing pink chest hair that’s only visible when he’s removed his chitinous armor.

The problem arises when Caleb breathes and it comes out too quick, too shaky, how he can’t bear to look at his hands longer than a second before he starts to hear the crackle of fire and the taste of ash on his tongue.

“Later, perhaps,” he croaks out, and Caduceus almost looks relieved. “Bedding beside me would suffice, for the night.”

Large wide eyes level with his curiously.

“I need sleep, Caduceus. It has been a long and difficult day.” A thought comes to him then, a scattered utterance from mere minutes before.

“And for what it is worth, big man, I do not hate you.” Caleb stands and runs a bandaged hand through sweat mussed hair, rubbing at his temples to alleviate the growing exhaustion headache. “I have my own failures, and I think you remind me of them too often for my liking.”

Caduceus stands in turn, placing a large hand against Caleb’s forehead slowly. The pain lessens drastically, Caleb sighing in relief, and he opens his eyes just enough to see the cleric’s tired smile.

“Recognizing that is a good step in the right direction.” As Caduceus removes his hand he spreads his arms in a gesture Caleb’s seen Beau butcher before, drawing him into a tight, enveloping hug. “Sometimes the best thing you can do for yourself is stop and breathe, Caleb.”

Awkward in the embrace, Caleb lightly pats the highest point of Caduceus’ back he can easily reach. They part and Caleb clears his throat.

“That is not to say I am not interested in your, ah,” His mind blanks for a moment and he waves his hand to indicate the entirety of Caduceus, licking his lips absently at the thought of the firbolg wrapped around him a less _friendly_ manner. “I would be _most_ amenable to the thought, Caduceus.”

Even through the veneer of exhaustion, Caduceus grins slowly and leans down to place a chaste kiss against Caleb’s cheek.

“I’m certain you would find it to your liking, Mister Caleb.”

**Author's Note:**

> i started this with the intention of hate fucking, but i'm a sucker for talking about feelings and communicating and also 'platonic' cuddling  
> caduceus is Exhausted and after the last like five episodes? boy needs a fuckin nap or something.  
> (i'm very much thinking about continuing this, but i need to flesh out an outline before i commit to anything tbh)
> 
> comments are appreciated and inspire me to write more!! <3


End file.
